


lightly and quietly jumping over your heart

by pinkwalk (heartspound)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, it's about the intimacies that come with being in cahoots with your catboy neighbor, kitten's co-guardians to lovers, side soonhan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartspound/pseuds/pinkwalk
Summary: “We're not supposed to have pets,” Junhui whispers. “But Iknowyou brought a friend with you tonight.”Wonwoo is about to deny the existence of said friend but Junhui is quicker.“I won't tell,” he says, “if you let me pet it.”
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 20
Kudos: 165





	lightly and quietly jumping over your heart

**Author's Note:**

> this was born out of wonwoo saying he wrote the lyrics to i wish with "a timid guy who can’t confess his heart" in mind, and a never ending Jun Moment  
> \+ title is from Luckitty-Cat by WJSN!  
> \+ my lovely, talented friend gifted me [a wonderful art piece](https://twitter.com/CHlLLlSAUCE/status/1330227872271831045) for this fic!
> 
> january 2021: made some minor edits and fixed some things.

Wonwoo holds the cardboard box against his chest a little bit tighter and hopes for the best.

As he pushes the front door to his apartment complex open, he prays to whatever divine entity is responsible for the lucky life he led—not that he is extremely superstitious but he knows faith works wonders for some people. And that's what he needs right now: a higher power to stop the incredibly small fluff ball inside the box from crying a _meow_.

At least until both of them get to the safety of his apartment, behind locked doors, where none of his neighbors in the pet-unfriendly complex would see or hear the white kitten Wonwoo found on the cold street.

This was a reckless decision but he doesn't have time to think when he's already doing the impetuous thing he was sure he wouldn't do.

If there is one thing Wonwoo prides himself on, it’s being responsible. He’s aware he needs enough time to properly take care of another living being. Not only time but also being financially and mentally stable enough that he isn’t living off two-day-old coffee, instant ramyeon, and fingernails.

If he wanted a cat, he knew he had to finish his undergraduate degree and after what was almost a year of practicums, a very competitive employment exam, and what at the time felt like a never-ending existential crisis, he did. It counted as a victory to him, even if he still had to face half a year of employment training.

Nerve-wracking as constant supervision and evaluations can get, he’s halfway to the place where he wants to be. Being a high-school Literature teacher isn’t out of reach now that he walks under the eye of his mentors’ supervision, and if he maintains his pace he’d be able to grasp it.

What he doesn’t take pride in is how he recklessly, stupidly let a cardboard box decide for him. How he let it make a decision that could potentially get him evicted.

But the choice came easily when he strolled on the wet sidewalk, avoiding the little puddles that the rain had left behind, and let a gentle sound guide him around the corner to where a box stood under a naked, vulnerable tree. It came easily when he saw the sticky note that read ‘Please keep me safe!’ with a smiley face under the words, but looked around to find no one to stop him from following the request himself.

It became even easier when he opened it to see a small white kitten, shivering.

Wonwoo kneeled and took off his scarf, folded it five times to cover the kitten and closed the lid— enough for it to breathe through the crack. Then, with less care, he took the note and put it inside his padded coat pocket so he could throw it in the trash later.

Wonwoo picked up the small box and then, picked up his pace.

*

When he had looked to rent a somewhat livable place by himself, his not so large salary and the lack of places available for rent in Seoul forced him to readjust and settle for what was offered to him. And what he had to settle for was a landlord who didn't even let the tenants keep one small goldfish as a pet and even if Wonwoo disliked the idea of keeping small fish inside a glass prison— he had seen _Finding Nemo_ with Soonyoung enough times to know better. But it was ridiculous.

"Why would he not allow them to keep a pet that makes no noise and needs to stay inside a water tank to live?" Wonwoo asked even though he knew the answer already. "How could an animal the size of a pen drive bother anyone?"

"Maybe he had a problem with the couple and was looking for an excuse to evict them," Soonyoung said absently, his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder and eyes not leaving the movie that neither of them bothered to pause.

"I think he just hates animals.”

"And happiness," Soonyoung adds, lifting his head from Wonwoo's shoulder and looking at him with sparkly eyes. "You could always sneak a pet in.”

Wonwoo smiled at how simple he made it sound. Soonyoung’s you-can-just-do-it approach to life was amusing to him from day one, when he had knocked on his room door, asking for any kind of soda or anything to wash his mouth—filled with oregano because of a bet, but mostly because he was laced with the need to prove something— and Soonyoung had taken the cold coffee gave him as amiability.

Considering their meeting first year and all the trouble Soonyoung got in their freshman year, it hadn’t taken much observation on his part to notice how his newly-found friend treated his thoughts. How he took his silly ideas from his brain, loaded them into a gun and fired straight up into the air. But Wonwoo, always careful, was used to only watching him from the sidelines, afraid of being the unintended target of a stray bullet, or in worse scenarios, being caught in the crossfire.

Watching him is free entertainment. Most of the time.

Because there are other times when Soonyoung aims directly at him.

“It's not like your jackass landlord can come around without telling you in writing first, right?"

"It’s not as simple as you make it sound," he chuckled, losing Soonyoung’s attention after the clear dismissal of what was, in Wonwoo’s defense, a colossally dumb idea. So he poked at his leg enough times to get it back. “I'd have to keep a very independent animal secret from my stupid landlord, not to mention the elderly woman next door who takes gossiping more seriously than you and Jeonghan—"

"This is my favorite part," Soonyoung interrupted him before delivering all the dialogue, word for word, of the climax scene of _Herbie: Fully Loaded_.

It should have ended there but ideas like to take root, take life of its own.

Even though the conversation wasn’t brought up again, Soonyoung’s unwavering positivity grazed Wonwoo's brain. It could all fall into place and he could finally have a fluffy roommate. It could happen if he takes the risk. But things in life don’t just fall into place, at least not for Wonwoo.

So he covered the thought when it dared to come back to the surface, burying it under piles of past failures. Mostly because he wouldn't accept theoretical ideas from Soonyoung who excitedly did what he pleased with no regard for consequences, but also because he knew jumping around on intuitive leaps without thinking about it first led to trouble.

Because although his friends joked good fortune followed him around, Wonwoo knew better.

More than luck, he had his fair experience at dodging disappointment. He’d rather not spoil his almost perfect record because of a whim.

*

Initially, he wants to blame it on Soonyoung, tells himself after five years of friendship he’s starting to rub off on him. But he’s not so sure.

Wonwoo is sure of only one thing and that thing is that he’s not sure what the hell he’s doing. Part of him thinks this is the dumbest thing he’s done but the other, stronger part of him thinks of the kitten, and all the hesitation flies out of the window.

The cold foyer is empty of any signs of life when he looks around. Carefully, he sneaks into the elevator and lets out a breath, too soon, because the distant hum of the city of Seoul, low and muted only by the walls separating him from the outside world, becomes sharper. Wonwoo turns around as the front entrance opens and in comes Wen Junhui.

His face is barely visible, half of it covered by a large maroon scarf, but he recognizes the swift way he walks. It’s impossible not to with the way he carries himself, his practiced ease unmistakable even if his large form is wrapped under layers and layers of clothing.

Junhui’s renaissance-painting-like eyes visibly brighten when he looks up from his phone and they meet Wonwoo’s.

All of his silent begging to something he doesn’t even believe in is worth none of the self-humiliation when Junhui puts his phone in his pocket and waves at him.

Wonwoo naturally panics.

In a desperate attempt to flee, he struggles to press the button to the third floor not once, not twice but three times. But the universe and Junhui’s long legs laugh at his efforts to escape because in five strides he’s next to him and the doors close, locking Wonwoo inside with him.

He sees the number zero in the elevator panel, going up up up. Wonwoo counts alongside it, waiting for his evening to take an even more disastrous turn.

“Do you need help with that?” Junhui says as a way of greeting, pointing at the box.

Wonwoo doesn’t move an inch, except for his fingers that clench around it.

“No, it’s fine," he says way too quickly. Not obvious at all. “Thank you,” he adds but it sounds like an afterthought and just so awkward.

The elevator panel reads _one_. He notices on the mirror Junhui’s curious eyes wandering and he wouldn’t be surprised if the panel flashed the words _game over_. “What do you have in there?”

“Huh?”

Junhui points at the bag in Wonwoo’s hands and he lets himself take another breath.

“Sorry, I used to work at that place and I know the dishes aren’t the best,” Junhui explains, scrunching his nose in disgust at the bag.

“Oh, I’d never bought from there before, it was just something in the way.”

_Second floor._

“If you have some respect for yourself, don’t eat it,” he warns him, and if Wonwoo still had some appetite left he would be thankful. “The place wasn’t the most… sanitary.”

_Third floor._

“Thanks,” Wonwoo says hurriedly, “see you around.”

The _woosh_ of the elevator doors opening is in synchrony with the first hurried breath Wonwoo takes when he walks out into the narrow hall. Taking long strides, he resists the urge to take a look back at his neighbor, as he sometimes does.

Whatever higher power he had prayed to had different plans for him because the box slightly moves like a warning before he hears it, louder and clearer than the clinking of his keys or Junhui's soft footsteps in the hall.

 _Meow_.

The weight of silence and a pair of eyes fall heavy on Wonwoo’s back and he tries his hardest not to falter under their pressure.

The keys finally cooperate and turn in the lock and Wonwoo—not so gracefully—gets inside his apartment. He almost trips closing the door with the sole of his shoe and somehow panics even more, not for himself but the fragile meowing box. He puts it down with caution but throws aside what he now knows is inedible japchae.

One hand on the wall and the other holding his heart, he takes a deep breath and then, he takes off his shoes. What if Junhui heard the kitten. It’s most likely that he did and on top of the sound revealing what was in the box, Wonwoo’s awkwardness couldn’t possibly translate into timidness. Back in the elevator, he thought that instead of the discreet but harmless demeanor he wanted to go for, Wonwoo looked like an overly alert, caught-in-the-headlights criminal.

He doesn’t have time to form an explanation, in case Junhui wants to ask—which he knows it’s bound to happen because if their spots were reversed, Wonwoo would at least be curious to know what was in the box, though it was a no-brainer.

He’s about to text Soonyoung when a clear knock behind him makes him flinch.

There’s no need to check who’s behind the door.

The thing is, Wonwoo doesn’t talk much to Junhui except for when the other orders takeout. Most of the time from various restaurants in the area—if the variety of delivery guys who knock on Wonwoo’s door every few evenings because his neighbor wouldn’t answer his are anything to go by.

The first three times it happened, Wonwoo with a takeout bag in hand and the realization that he was now hungry, had to wait in the cold hall for a freshly showered Junhui to open his door. Why he decided to take a shower when he knew he was about to get food delivered to his apartment, Wonwoo never asked. Not for lack of interest, though.

The fourth time it happened, Wonwoo half-joked, half-warned him he was going to keep the food if he was the one who kept receiving it, and Junhui, blond hair still wet, laughed and told him he could always join him for dinner.

Despite his hunger, Wonwoo said _no, thank you_.

After the awful invitation and his denial that contradicted the pull of his stomach, he left but not empty-handed. “Just in case,” Junhui said after asking for Wonwoo’s phone to type in his number. As if they both didn’t know it was bound to happen again. It does, regularly in fact. The difference is that when he texts his absurd neighbor he has his food he doesn’t have to go away from his keyboard for more than two minutes.

But this time, he opens the door to find Junhui standing behind it and he has absolutely nothing of his. Wonwoo knows he is, to put it simply, fucked.

“We're not supposed to have pets,” he whispers, “but I _know_ you brought a friend with you tonight.”

Wonwoo is about to deny the existence of said friend but Junhui is quicker.

“I won't tell,” he says, “if you let me pet it.”

And Wonwoo looks at his expectant face, close as it is to his, and—not without briefly thinking about it—lets Junhui in.

*

“It can’t be possibly older than a month.” Wonwoo leans back against his couch and sits there on the floor, contemplating what to do.

“It’s so tiny,” Junhui coos at the little thing nibbling on the tip of his middle finger, “and hungry.”

Laying down on Junhui’s leg, unable to stand for longer than what’s necessary on its wobbly legs, is a scruffy little kitten. White as a cloud, its fur contrasts with its baby pink nose and shy teal eyes. Shabby as it looks, because of what Wonwoo supposes is lack of care, it has a gentle look about it.

And despite the biting cold outside, it was left on an empty street where no one could have noticed it.

What was just a purely theoretical idea has in less than an hour become real and solid, and it’s scary because of the issues that can arise with his landlord and neighbors, but more importantly with the health condition of the kitten. Problems that will come up, Wonwoo is sure.

He does the sensible thing: takes out his phone and asks for advice from his friend, Naver.

The results range from ‘ _How to Syringe Feed a Newborn Kitten_ ’ videos to articles that cover ‘ _Postnatal Care of a Cat and Her Newborn Babies_ ’. He scrolls down until he finds one that describes how to care for a cat and tries his hardest not to get distracted by the pictures of kitties because he’s on a mission.

The only sound in the room is Junhui softly talking to the kitten when Wonwoo speaks up. “I’ll take it to a vet tomorrow for a check-up. Besides, I don’t think all the wobbling is normal for a cat that’s clearly old enough to stand up,” he says and Junhui briefly looks up at him to let him know he’s listening. “Need to get formulated kitten food, though.”

"Okay," Junhui says, all of his attention back on his new fluffy friend on his lap.

"So... I need to leave." _So do you._

"Okay," he repeats. It should be comical how Junhui sits there and doesn't even pretend to listen to Wonwoo’s silent request and instead runs a long finger on the kitten's pink belly, smiling incredibly big. But it does something to Wonwoo—he gets the urge to take his camera and snap a memory of it.

He has lost count of how many times it has happened that evening but for what feels like the ninth time, Wonwoo doesn't know what to command his body to do. Or if his brain has any commands to give. He goes even more quiet, unable to disrupt the adorable scene in front of him.

Something inside of him melts and he knows it’s game over. All the extra lives he had collected over the years, gone in one evening.

As if he heard Wonwoo scratching at the walls of his mind, trying to escape his terrible thoughts, Junhui looks up. "Oh," he mutters in understanding, the words finally reaching past his cat tunnel vision. "I can take care of our friend until you get back."

Wonwoo might be dumb when it comes to boys like Junhui—or so Soonyoung says—but not stupid enough to leave him alone here. He doesn’t know him, not really, and he raises his eyebrows at the offer. "In my apartment?"

Junhui tries to hide a smile, amused. "Of course not, at my place."

Wonwoo considers him and weighs out his very limited options.

There are very few things he knows about Junhui.

In the early mornings, his round but droopy eyes are half-lit like a small part of him is still asleep. Although he wakes up before dawn like Wonwoo who always greets him at the bus stop, he irons his suits, unlike Wonwoo who hates wearing button-ups so he wears sweaters and hopes it never gets too hot he has to take them off.

Once, when Wonwoo gave him a very obvious glance over, Junhui had attributed it to all the layers he was covered with and explained that the Seoul winter was unforgiving, unlike the winters in his Chinese hometown. Wonwoo didn’t explain that wasn’t the reason he was examining him.

And he's always on his phone. Doing... something.

Through observations, he learned more about him than he learned through shared words. It wasn't much but he seemed harmless enough, and like he could be trusted with a kitten. “Okay, okay.”

"We'll figure it out," Junhui says.

 _We?_ Wonwoo hesitates again and it must be clear because Junhui studies him for a moment and says, "Listen, we could figure it out together if you want to. If not, I can take care of our friend for tonight while you're out and then I promise I'll take this little secret with me to my grave."

Here, Junhui isn’t only offering a choice but a helping hand too. If he accepts it.

 _We,_ Wonwoo rolls the word around in his mind and thinks he doesn’t mind it. Once again, the choice comes easier than he thought it would any other time.

He ends up blaming his weak heart.

*

_Miso—_ as they have decided to name her after a small discussion of whether _Meow_ or _Hwi Hwi_ was better—threaded seamlessly into his life.

Cats are used to climbing or going outside but this one had to be closely watched because of an inner ear infection. And while it could be treated and cured with medication and the right nutritional supplements, someone had to keep a close eye on her. Watch her steps and see if they become more unbalanced or more steady and keep her from going too far because she could easily fall.

Miso needed extra care and demanded more attention but Wonwoo didn't mind. Neither did Junhui.

Early on they decided they would take turns, alternating every two days as if they were co-guardians of a kid. They kind of are if Wonwoo thinks about the way he doesn't want to let go of her. He thinks Junhui doesn't either, by the way he lingers at his door when he drops her off.

Neither of them stick around for long though, scared the elderly woman would see Miso and report them to the landlord.

“We have to be careful with Mrs. Kim,” Junhui warned one evening, putting a name to the noisy face of their neighbor.

They stick to sneaking around instead. Looking at both sides before coming in and out, and talking in hushed whispers in the hall, passing a secret between them.

It's on the days they're both working that gets tricky but they have Junhui's roommate for that. That's how Wonwoo finds out about Mingyu, someone he has never seen before. It's odd but according to Junhui, the mystery man is a snorer by day, Commis Chef by night. And always eager to help, Junhui says.

The first week, after Miso got all her vaccines and was on her way to recovery, they post pictures along with descriptions of her and proof of her medical record but sadly, everyone only shares their sympathy. No one approaches them and Wonwoo doesn't blame them but he still gets somewhat annoyed on Miso's behalf.

It's not long into the second week when he knocks on Junhui's door and he gets another offer from him.

Wednesdays are his and Wonwoo reluctantly lets go of Miso. He’s about to leave Junhui clears his throat.

"I made extra fried chicken if you want some?"

Wonwoo thinks of the leftover meal from the night before in his fridge and doesn't hesitate when he says yes.

*

It’s when he tells about their secret to Jeonghan and Soonyoung that he falters.

All three of them sit on his carpeted floor in front of Wonwoo’s small but cherished TV, as if it’s a fireplace and whatever animated movie they pick is their source of warmth. It’s something they’re used to. What’s different now is the one-month-old kitten between them playing with Soonyoung’s mini tiger plush keyring, Jeonghan recording with his phone. Their movie is completely forgotten after Soonyoung decided that getting a reaction out of Miso was more entertaining than the movie he was bashing five minutes ago.

“He’s looking really familiar, isn’t he?” he coos, pleased when the kitten claws at the plushie. It fits perfectly between her tiny paws and she playfully bites at it.

All in all, it’s not so bad they’re missing a movie, Wonwoo thinks as he tears his eyes away from Miso and notices Jeonghan softly smiling at Soonyoung.

Although his friends have been dating for over a year and Wonwoo can’t think of them as anything but a unit, he never felt like the odd one around them.

Inseparable couple or not, Soonyoung is always consistent about clinging to both of them. It made acquaintances question their relationship aloud, to Wonwoo’s mortification and Jeonghan’s amusement. But being friends with Soonyoung for all of his adult life had taught him it was easier (and natural, really) to indulge him.

And for lack of use of a stronger word, he also really _likes_ Jeonghan. It’s impossible not to, taking a liking to him is the natural order of life because he makes sure everyone around him finds his presence delightful. If it’s a set of conscious or unconscious actions he takes to make other people react like sunflowers to the Sun, Wonwoo isn’t certain.

It’s when they try to lure him into trouble that he questions why his friends are the personification of _Thing One_ and _Thing Two_.

“You should keep the cat,” Jeonghan says, his finger directed at him.

“I can’t,” Wonwoo says. It’s final.

Jeonghan doesn’t bother to conceal his smile. _Is it really,_ his face seems to question.

At that, Soonyoung waves his hand to get their attention but doesn’t wait to get it before speaking up.

“I’m confused,” he says, “are we talking about Junhui or the actual cat?”

Wonwoo puts his head on his hands, not because he’s pained but because the analogy is kind of funny and he wouldn’t give Soonyoung the satisfaction of laughing at a joke made at his expense. “Get out of my apartment.”

Jeonghan lets out his somewhat-tame-machine-gun laughter and Soonyoung holds up his hand for a high five.

“Her is Miso and no, I’m not keeping her,” Wonwoo mutters, ignoring the mention of his neighbor and co-guardian of the kitten to not give them any material to work with. The last thing he needs is to create a problem that doesn’t exist yet. “Like I said, we’re taking care of her until we find her a home.”

There it is again: _We._ He ignores it.

The pair look at him but don’t press, don’t mention the fact that _they_ had named her already and for that Wonwoo is thankful.

It’s Soonyoung who speaks to him first.

“Back to _The Secret Life of Pets_ , I still think they tried to recreate _Toy Story_ and failed, and nothing that you say about premises will change my mind.”

*

Wonwoo becomes rather fond of Junhui's cooking. The food is what speeds up the process of warming up to his silly antics. Or, that's what he tells himself when he makes more space for him in his life.

On the nights they don't have much to say to each other, he's just content with simply sharing a bag of chips and playing battle royale games on their phones next to each other, with each other.

He slowly starts noticing how he gets warm all over when he tastes Junhui's meals. Literally and figuratively. Some of them are really spicy and there’s only so many spicy peppers Wonwoo’s body can take. But he never complains about it, solely because Junhui cooks for him unprompted.

Junhui has the tendency to deny it, insisting that it's not like that. That no, he just miscalculated the measures and made more food than he intended. That two can live as cheaply as one. But he sees the two disposable bowls on the kitchen counter, ready to be set on the table the moment he enters Junhui's apartment and Wonwoo has to resist the urge to tease him. And then more seriously, tell him he doesn’t have to do anything for him.

Let him know he notices that his excuses are not holding up and the proof shows they aren’t true.

They can't be because over dinner—while Miso rubbed her fur against their legs under the table, asking for food or attention or both—Junhui mentioned he was planning to open a resto-bar, a place where people could reunite. Something he tried to dismiss as a long-term plan but it was the determination that was interlaced with the words that made Wonwoo wonder if it was more than that. A dream, maybe.

Wonwoo lets him be, he knows a strong sense of pride can't be broken overnight. That, and Wonwoo has a habit to save his words, what he really means to say, to himself. And like Wonwoo, Junhui never prods or pushes.

So it's easy, to just be when they’re together.

And Wonwoo tries to return the kindness in the ways he knows.

He does the dishes even when Junhui tells him it's fine—he knows it is but he also knows a simple _thank you_ doesn't cut it. Starts bringing Coca-Cola cans with him like they’re some kind of offering. He goes as far as to get him a cactus, a tiny little thing that he saw on his way home and reminded him of all the other little trinkets on Junhui's window sill.

Same as Wonwoo, Junhui tells him he didn't have to but happily accepts it.

With time spent together also comes knowledge, little things Junhui shares with him. Like the job he has as a receptionist at a private office that he loathes but treats as a means to an end, or the reviews he leaves somewhere on the internet that he refers to as public service. He claims they're honest and professional, as much as one-sentence reviews can be. But naturally, Wonwoo wants proof and asks him to translate one for him one evening when they’re sitting in Junhui’s small couch, knees almost brushing.

"Don't let the pictures fool you because yes, it looks like it was taken out of a Ghibli movie but tastes like—" he slightly tilts his head to the side, looking for the right words in Korean— "crunchy edible water."

Wonwoo throws his head back, laughing. When he looks back at Junhui, he looks extremely pleased with himself. "Like lettuce," Wonwoo says, smiling around his words.

"You get it!" Junhui wraps his hand around Wonwoo's wrist and squeezes, just a bit, and then goes on a tangent about how to like some vegetables, you have to make the frightening choice to eat them until they don’t taste so bad anymore.

It's almost midnight when they notice they've talked about celery for too long and Junhui leaves after kissing Miso goodnight.

At one in the morning, Wonwoo gets in bed with Miso curled up next to him and wonders when he unconsciously went from enjoying Junhui's company to wanting to share his time with him. He doesn't think he can pinpoint the exact moment of descent into infatuation hell.

*

It's a silent Saturday afternoon but Wonwoo's mind is anything but quiet.

The circular act of writing and deleting whole paragraphs is making him sick. Every time he opens the document, writes something and reads it, he has to resist the urge to throw his laptop out of the window.

Write, delete, and repeat.

It's been almost six months of instructional guidance, evaluations, and classroom supervision that he thought would have made him stutter his words in front of the nice mentor he was assigned to and wide-eyed high schoolers. Now, he knows that being watched was the easy part.

He has to share what he’s learned through a report to finally complete his follow-up training but he prefers to read someone else's words instead of struggling with his own. Trapped in the vicious circle of staring at his document for too long, picking up the book he keeps next to him under the pretense it might help, not being able to concentrate on what he’s reading because there are more pressing matters, back to staring at his laptop screen.

His only comforts are a sleepy Miso who purrs when Wonwoo pets her for reassurance, and the low, eerie game sounds coming from the other end of the couch.

Junhui offered to make him company, said something about how maybe he’d use the time to do something productive too. Wonwoo teased him, told him passing a level of an adventure game wasn’t exactly what he pictured when he thought of the word productivity but Junhui simply waved him off and got back to his game.

Junhui's soft presence has become comforting but confusing and even unnerving at times. Not for anything in particular he does—though he is notably peculiar—but because of how puzzling his whole existence in Wonwoo’s life was to him.

There are so many unanswered questions he doesn't know how to phrase. Questions he doesn't know if he wants the answer to.

Instead, he watches Junhui from a safe distance where he can see how he nibbles his lips in concentration, or how he cartoonishly clutches his head when he loses a game, or how his playful meows sound practiced but the gentle, tender way he pets Miso when she meows back comes naturally to him. Junhui might be loud but his love is always quiet. And Wonwoo is left holding onto what he really means to say, staring at him in wonder.

It's distracting.

Wonwoo would know because he spent most of his day rinsing jumbled words in his mouth, peeking at Junhui from his side of the couch.

He closes the book he isn't reading, opens his laptop again, and goes over his awkward attempts to explain what he learned and how enriching the experience was. It feels a lot like lying.

“Hey,” Junhui calls him softly and brings him back down. “You keep spacing out, are you sure you don’t need to rest?”

The thing is, looking at the open empty document and then at Junhui, he doesn't feel like he learned much. That or he forgot the Korean language in the process of trying to put his thoughts down.

He says so aloud, exasperated at himself. "I’m getting frustrated here and I’m not even doing the bare minimum."

Junhui hums from his side of the couch. "Don't be so hard on yourself," he says, "everything in life is hard."

"That's very optimistic," Wonwoo chuckles.

"What I mean is that everything in life is hard already as it is, so you shouldn't put even more pressure on yourself. Your bare minimum isn't actually that bare or minimum, you know? I think you should give yourself more credit for at least trying."

When Wonwoo swallows the words, they fall heavy and uncomfortable in his stomach. Not only because of the weight of them but because he notices he’s only been scratching at the surface. He’s been refusing himself to ask everything he’s curious about and on top of that, mistakes Junhui's genuineness for simple-mindedness.

There isn't a simple recipe for Junhui or anything he says. Wonwoo is stupid to think there is.

The issue is that he wants to understand all of Junhui. Wants to take all of his words in, not just listen to him but pay close attention, take notice of every syllable that comes from his heart-shaped lips, and he wants to discover how his thoughts work and when he learned to move in the practiced, confident way he does, so lightly and quietly.

Wonwoo feels very limited by his stupidity.

"Does that make sense?" Junhui gives him somewhere to start.

Wonwoo fixes his glasses and really, really looks at him. "Yeah, it does. Thank you, Junnie."

Junhui, unpredictable as ever, gets embarrassed and giggles behind his hands as if he was the one who tripped over himself.

*

By the time Miso grows bigger and it gets even more tricky to keep her safe under their coats away from Mrs. Kim’s eyes, Wonwoo knows Junhui's apartment like he knows the lyrics to _IU_ ’s _The Shower_.

They don’t come up with excuses to try to explain why they want to be in each other’s company anymore. There’s no use in justifying themselves, not when their alliance turned into something more.

Affinity. Closeness. _Friendship_.

A simple text asking if the other wants to hang out just for the sake of hanging out, and they’re on their way.

Junhui texts him he has something to show him, doesn’t explain any further and Wonwoo is knocking on his door the moment he gets back from his day out, shopping with Soonyoung. Tired or not, he doesn’t like to pass the opportunity to see him. He doesn’t want to read too much into it.

A half-asleep Junhui lets him in. “Was napping not ten minutes ago,” he slurs the words, trying to rub the puffiness off his eyes.

“Cute,” Wonwoo says, can’t help it, and he’s rewarded by Junhui lightly hitting his arm.

Wonwoo isn’t finished taking off his shoes when Junhui walks towards the door at the end of the hallway, calling after him to follow. He does, almost hesitant, stopping in his tracks at the open door of Junhui’s bedroom.

If someone were to ask him to describe the apartment next to his, he could easily do it. Wonwoo can recall the place from memory, even the tiny details like the shape of the wet patch on the bathroom ceiling that their landlord promised he would fix ten months ago, or the names of all thirteen books on their little shelf under the TV.

By now, he knows his way around Junhui’s place but his knowledge stops right outside the innermost parts of it.

He doesn't know how Mingyu's room looks because well, he doesn't really know him. He has seen him so he knows he isn’t just a concept in Junhui's life, but an actual human being who just has a messed up sleep schedule.

His only guess is that it’s smaller than his because instead of one, they have to share the space, split it between Mingyu’s and Junhui's bedroom.

And Wonwoo never stepped inside this room. It’s a mystery.

He stands in the doorway, waiting for a sign that he’s allowed in, careful not to intrude and only when Junhui beckons him in, he does, curiously looking around.

There’s life in every corner and somehow it isn’t a surprise.

It’s bright inside— as bright as it can get with the sunlight filtered by the blinds on the long window that first greets him. The wardrobe by the side is covered in various art prints and postcards stuck to the wall in organized chaos. There are some polaroids here and there, with Junhui and his loved ones inside them waving and making faces at Wonwoo like saying _hello there, you're new here_.

What surprises Wonwoo is the cat playhouse the size of a bed table in the middle of the room. The same playhouse Junhui asked about from behind him at the bus stop when he noticed Wonwoo looking at it in his phone, his finger hovering over the _Add To Cart_ button, surprising Wonwoo, who dismissed it as something dumb he thought about getting Miso before locking his phone.

He forgot about the idea after locking it away. It was one that made Wonwoo feel like he was stepping too close to the _what if_ 's line, something he wouldn’t usually entertain. But Junhui went and dropped money on his wishful thinking anyway.

He looks very pleased about what he’s just done. “Surprise,” he says, looking at Wonwoo even if it’s a gift for Miso, not him.

However, it doesn’t feel like it’s only for her. Not when Miso is already playing with one of the dangling toy balls and Junhui seems a little restless, lightly bouncing on his toes. Expectant.

It’s larger than what it looked like in pictures, or maybe Miso is just a small cat. Wonwoo runs his hand on the high-rise cushioned perch and lets his thoughts run wild, lets them take leaps over his stupid heart.

“Well?” Junhui smiles.

“ _Junnie_ ,” Wonwoo whispers because he can’t bring himself to say anything else, afraid of dropping everything he’s been keeping for himself. Hidden somewhere so well that he didn’t realize until now that he kept it _from_ himself too.

Wonwoo decides not to ask about what would happen when she leaves, it isn’t a question he wants to bring up. Not now when Miso hops on the bolstered perch, her white fur contrasting with the black and white flowers print, and kneads on the surface, trying it out.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You know I'd have chipped in,” Wonwoo says.

“I saw it when I got out of work and I thought it was the same playhouse you were eyeing last week, and I didn’t think much of it. It was _nothing_ ,” he explains.

Wonwoo stares at him in awe because he has seen the price already. But it's not just the price, it's the attention to that small detail that even Wonwoo forgot about, put away somewhere in his brain. It isn’t nothing.

Junhui speaks again before he gets the chance to say anything, to hold his head between his hands and say _you are so silly_ , to do anything. “Besides, it wouldn’t have been a surprise, and—I know that face, don’t even think of going back for your wallet because I did get it for you but for Miso too, so don't be like that.”

Here, inside the most intimate room of his apartment, Junhui puts his pride aside and admits that yes, he did this for Wonwoo.

Here, for the first time, Junhui doesn't dodge the truth.

“You’re an idiot,” Wonwoo says, all the fight in him gone. But then he meets Junhui’s eyes and sees his facial expression visibly soften. He notices the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips, right next to his beauty mark and _god._ Wonwoo wants to draw it out—kiss him silly.

The thought comes and doesn’t go, no matter how much he wants it too. He can’t leave the room, can’t leave his thoughts behind. It's a lot. But standing there and not knowing what to do is just as unsatisfying as it is overwhelming.

It’s not that he _doesn’t know_ what he wants, it’s that he _knows_.

Wonwoo is no stranger to the pressure in his chest but he doesn’t know what to do with all this want, all his wishes other than cling to them, nervous they would ease away slowly. They’re all he has.

Instead of running himself in circles, he breaks eye contact and looks for something, anything to look at that isn't Junhui's innocent eyes and beauty marks and heart-shaped lips.

“You know what?” Junhui says, “I’ll accept a coffee as a thank you.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at that because coffee doesn’t even come close to being even but he knows he’s only capable of giving back in smaller, subtler ways. That’s the only way Wonwoo has ever learned to give and take, in small bits.

If he starts now and keeps it up, one day they might be even.

Without saying a single word, he turns around and heads towards the kitchen.

Making coffee feels like taking a break and his heart is grateful for it as Wonwoo pours Junhui coffee in what he knows is his favorite mug—the white one with a blue tulip he likes to keep visible on top of the fridge—and pours himself some too. But his want doesn’t simply disappear.

It’s there, simmering. Wonwoo lets it.

Mugs in hand, he comes back to Junhui’s bedroom to find him with his phone out, snapping pictures of Miso. He looks up at Wonwoo and holds up his phone even higher. “Can I?” he asks for permission and Wonwoo wants to tell him he doesn't have to. Instead, he smiles at the camera pointed at him.

“Cute,” Junhui coos at him and it all threatens to get to its boiling point.

*

Half of his coffee going cold and the other half in his system, Wonwoo feels himself dozing off and Junhui is halfway there too even if he drank all of his. No matter how caffeinated he is, he has the ability to fall asleep anywhere. Caffeine has no effect on Wonwoo either, who developed an immunity to it early in his university years.

Letting his eyes drift around the room, he notices all the things scattered on the bedside table. He squints his eyes, trying to read the titles of the short pile of manga volumes but there’s no use—even if he’s wearing his glasses, he’s sitting on the floor, back against the side of Junhui’s bed and his shortsightedness doesn’t help, never does. A short _Totoro_ figurine sits on top of the pile and next to it, there’s a wooden carved owl. A tiny thing that stands out to him in between all the colors of the room. "That's pretty," Wonwoo says, pointing at it.

Junhui blinks and follows the movement of his hand, "Oh, my mom bought it for me before I came here. Said I should take a little piece of home with me."

It feels a lot like receiving yet another gift.

Junhui caresses the top of Miso’s head—who decided earlier that Junhui’s lap was a better lounging spot than her new playhouse—and she meows, pleased.

"It looks like you," Wonwoo says, unable to hide his smile this time.

Junhui slightly frowns in confusion, "Miso?"

"No, dumbass. The owl with the big eyes."

Junhui laughs and it fills up the empty places of the room. "My mom told me that too," he says and that feels like receiving too.

Wonwoo hasn't ever left South Korea, the farthest he's ever gone from his hometown was Seoul. That’s why he doesn't understand how it’s like to be so far away from everything he's ever known. But that’s the thing about empathy. It's not something that just comes out naturally but something that requires him to understand that he understands nothing, and to choose to try anyway.

When Junhui gets more comfortable on top of his checkered pillows and taps on the bed three times, Wonwoo follows. When Junhui talks about Shenzhen, about his friend who gifted him the vivid, rich painting on the corner of the room, about the first friend he made when he came here, and about some of the places and memories that mean _home_ to him, Wonwoo listens.

He listens about all the love Junhui is surrounded by and all the love he gives back. How radiant and caring he is and how it could never translate into the four walls of his room. No matter how colorful or bright it might be, it doesn’t compare to Junhui.

However, he thinks, it comes pretty damn close.

Wonwoo is at the end of his bed, bare feet hanging from it. He watches Junhui hug one of his pillows.

"I'd like to visit Shenzhen someday. It sounds lovely," Wonwoo says and it feels like giving, just the tiniest bit.

Junhui yawns, mouth opening wide in a way that's endearing. "It'd be my pleasure to be your tour guide."

Feeling half-asleep himself, in some kind of daze, Wonwoo gives more.

"For me," he starts, picking at the white loose thread of Junhui's sweatpants, "home was always more about what I built around myself instead of a fixed place. I only ever got that sense of comfort—or rather felt like I belonged somewhere around my friends."

 _You included,_ Wonwoo wants to say. "And Miso," he adds instead.

They stay quiet for a moment, comfortable silence between them.

Wonwoo is falling asleep, glasses still on and back against the wall, but opens his eyes at Junhui’s dramatic, over-the-top gasp. "How dare you imply Miso isn't your friend?"

Wonwoo takes a moment to understand what Junhui is talking about. When it clicks, he looks at him incredulously. "Didn't you say yesterday she was our _daughter_?"

Junhui pointedly ignores him and speaks to Miso, who looks at him with her unblinking teal eyes like he holds all the truth in the world. "Don't listen to your least favorite dad," he says, proving Wonwoo's point, "he just had a long day at work today."

"It's _Sunday._ "

"He's no fun, tell him that," Junhui tells her in a tiny, sweet voice and to their surprise, she _meows._ Wonwoo can’t blame her for taking his side, he would do the same.

Placating them, he drops his jaw in fake surprise. "After all I've done for you,” Wonwoo says, faking hurt and putting a hand over his chest.

The dramatics are worth it when Junhui screams into his pillow.

*

The sun is dipping low and it reminds Wonwoo of early summer mornings. It’s not summer, it’s spring. The days are getting longer and the nights are getting shorter and he welcomes the warm golden glow covering everything around him. Including Junhui, who is laying on his couch, the home he made for the day.

Earlier, he knocked on Wonwoo's door with the explanation that Mingyu had someone over and he didn't want to listen to any strange sounds. “If you know what I mean,” Junhui explained and as always, Wonwoo welcomed him in.

Wonwoo watches him from the floor where he lies on his stomach, his Nintendo Switch forgotten for the day. Junhui talks to him, keeping his words muted so as to not wake up Miso.

"It's just that it feels a lot like I'm exploiting the penguins for profit and personal satisfaction," Junhui explains why he's torn between uninstalling the Penguin Isle app or not, "but it's so _fun_ , it must be laced with something."

Miso is curled up on top of Junhui's stomach, the napping spot she made for the afternoon. Wonwoo checks every few minutes for the slow rise of her body when she breathes in, just to make sure. Even if she’s healthy now, even if there’s no need to struggle to get her to eat her meds, he still worries about her.

She’s grown into herself and become a constant in his life, Wonwoo has grown to care so much for her that he worries about her leaving his life in any way.

It's not fair how Miso might leave any time soon. That is, if they find her a new home.

"Junnie, I don't want her to leave," he admits out loud, interrupting Junhui’s train of thought.

It's the beginning of spring, almost three months since he brought Miso into his life and Wonwoo wants to take down all the posts, along with the pictures Mingyu took of her. Images that show her curious eyes and pinkish nose that would need sunscreen if she ever goes out. A chance she hadn’t had yet.

Miso has never had the pleasure to enjoy the sun because—in this spot they’ve created for the three of them—she’s been kept secret. Which is why they keep the posts up.

It doesn't feel fair to any of them.

Junhui pets her and she immediately stirs, meows, but makes herself even more comfortable on top of him. It's not fair because it looks _right_ and Wonwoo doesn't want to let go of either of them.

"I'm gonna miss her so much," he says softly and hopes Junhui gets the intention behind his words.

*

Wonwoo waits.

He lets his gaze linger when Junhui is next to his portable shabu-shabu, animatedly talking about his day. He extends his stay for a few more minutes—not for too long that he feels he's intruding but for enough time to get a few more giggles out of Junhui and some more purring out of Miso. He lingers by his own door when Junhui leaves his place as if telling him he doesn't have to.

It's after three months and a half when he starts wondering if Junhui is waiting too.

*

"Good luck," Junhui says as he sneaks Miso into his apartment. Wonwoo thanks him and as he walks in the direction of the elevator, he reminds himself he can get through his actual first day at work.

Wonwoo thinks of the multiple texts he received from Soonyoung that went from _you can do it_ to _you’re so smart and so sexy_ to _I love you_ , and a string of heart emojis in the end. He knows he can stand in front of a class, has been doing it for six months. But that was under the supervision of people who had years and years of teaching and this is different. It feels like he’s being thrown into the job with his luck, all the knowledge he could fit into his brain in five years and some experience.

It’s not that he isn’t confident but it’s new, and it is exciting as it is scary.

It's like some kind of déjà vu when he presses the ground floor button, hands shakier than usual, and Junhui opens his apartment door, locking eyes with him. But something is off, not quite in tune with what he remembers because Junhui’s eyes don’t brighten and he doesn’t wave, and the elevator doors are closing before he takes his first step towards him.

On his way down, Wonwoo tries to call him to ask what happened but he gets no answer. The line keeps ringing and ringing. Before he reaches the ground floor, he presses the button to their floor repeatedly.

The elevator comes to a stop and its doors open to let no one out but to let someone in. Junhui runs down the stairs and stops the doors from coming to a close. He stands next to him and takes his time to catch his breath.

The doors close once again and they start going up up up.

“What happened?” Wonwoo asks, all the muscles in his body pulled taut. It’s only when Junhui mutters in between pants how being a half-time parent is making him lose his shape that Wonwoo smiles, relieved he’s joking.

The relief doesn't last long.

Junhui stands up straighter and something in the air shifts. It gets heavier, pulling Wonwoo down instead of up and he doesn’t know if it’s the law of gravity fighting against the upward accelerating elevator, or if it’s Junhui tasting words in his mouth before he says them out loud, a frown forming on his face.

His chest gets even tighter when Junhui stands in front of him, between the closed doors of the elevator and Wonwoo. He brings his hands up to his shoulders, gaze everywhere but on Wonwoo's face.

“It was dumb to wish you luck so I take it back,” Junhui whispers as he fixes the lapels of his coat, not meeting his searching eyes. “You’ll do great.”

He chuckles. "You ran all the way to tell me that?"

“It’s important to you, so _yes_.”

Wonwoo thinks his heart enlarges a fraction and it hurts, it hurts so bad because there’s no space to grow in the confined space of his chest.

"You're so… silly," he says but there's no heat in it, only a shaky breath carrying his words.

With how close they are to each other, he thinks Junhui must feel them when they reach him. With the way his hands linger on his shoulders and his eyes meet his, Wonwoo hopes Junhui is going to do something.

Something like sharing with him that the secret Wonwoo has been keeping isn’t only his. Confessing for the two of them and saving Wonwoo from the mortification of having to do it himself.

Or maybe, closing the distance between them without the need of having to confess to anything.

But things don’t simply fall into place for Wonwoo. They never do, and he _should_ know better by now.

The elevator doors open and the moment he was trying to hold on to rushes down the hall.

Wonwoo doesn't know what to do with his hands, doesn't know where to start to organize his thoughts. Junhui is quicker than him. Slowly, he takes his hands off him and gifts him a smile, one that Wonwoo wants to keep safe in the pocket of his coat.

"See you later," Junhui smiles, painfully genuine and always, always comforting, and turns around, away from Wonwoo. He only looks back once and waves before the doors close again.

*

In their junior year, Soonyoung woke up Wonwoo with a cold bucket of water. He hadn’t just thrown the water inside it on him, but the whole bucket. On his face.

It was mostly Wonwoo's fault though. He had been pulling all-nighters and he had told Soonyoung, his roommate at the time, to wake him up because he had to sit for a final and he wanted to get at least three hours of sleep first.

After Wonwoo had changed into dry underwear and put on clothes to pass as a human being for the day, Soonyoung told him that no matter how hard or how many times he had tried to shake him awake, Wonwoo told him to fuck off and went back to sleep. He doesn't remember that but he does remember the water he inhaled and the sharp pain in his nose.

It feels a lot like that when Junhui stretches as far as his body would go, his wrinkled t-shirt riding up enough to show his toned stomach and speaks up.

"I'm looking for a new place, for when my lease ends."

Several question marks are all Wonwoo's brain provides and he stays silent as Junhui goes on about some of the places he's already been looking into, about how much he hates moving but how excited he is to have a place for himself, even if he would miss Mingyu.

He is leaving. That’s all Wonwoo can think about.

Junhui is leaving.

He feels something, a fluffy someone scratching at his leg. "Do you think you could find a place that allows pets?" Wonwoo asks, looking for something to hold on to but he learns that was the wrong thing to say.

" _Oh_ , I guess so? I mean, there would be no need to be sneaky anymore, right?"

It's all wrong. The phrasing, the hesitation in Wonwoo's _yeah,_ the chuckle he forces out, the awkward silence after. It's like they're jumping several steps back and Wonwoo hates it.

He likes all the sneaking and likes sharing a secret with Junhui. He just doesn't know how to confess _his_ before he loses the other.

It can't be that much of a secret. Sometimes he thinks he's obvious, so _obvious_ it makes him nervous. But he doesn't know if Junhui is oblivious to the not so tangible ways Wonwoo reveals all his cards, or if he simply doesn't want him back.

What he does know is that he doesn't want to find out.

He avoids Junhui's eyes for the rest of the night until he nudges him with his arm and playfully asks if Miso got his tongue. Wonwoo tries to smile when he explains he's just tired.

It’s not a lie.

*

"You're moping," Jeonghan says when he sees Wonwoo. He's been telling both him and Soonyoung he was alright and _not moping_ for a week but all it takes is one look at him to confirm he’s a liar.

At the end of the month, Junhui and Mingyu's lease will expire. It seems fundamentally wrong to Wonwoo that something is ending in the first month of spring when everything begins to flourish.

Mostly because he’s been patiently waiting for spring. For the new season to give life to something new. Something he could watch as it blooms. He can’t come to terms with something that barely just started, ending.

It’ll be over before he even dared to plant a seed, the soil under his feet drying out.

Instead of getting frustrated at the things he has control over and the things he doesn’t get to decide, Wonwoo puts his energy somewhere else. He helps as much as he can with everything, from helping Junhui pick a place to put things into boxes that Miso loves, which is also kind of ironic. If she only knew.

He might be sulking—not that he would admit it aloud—but he cares for Junhui. Not having exactly what he wants doesn't mean he doesn't cherish the friendship they share.

"For someone so smart, you're so dumb," Soonyoung tells him, hugging him so tight that he's sure it's hurting him more than it's hurting Wonwoo. "Just tell him you like him."

His stomach churns because _like_ is too weak a word for what he feels but he doesn’t correct him. "You say _just_ as if it's so easy."

It isn't, clearly.

"Okay, I'll bite," Jeonghan says, actually taking a bite from an apple that Wonwoo is sure he brought himself because there’s nothing of the sort in Wonwoo's fridge. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Wonwoo thinks of all the possible outcomes and picks the worst one. "He doesn't like me back and I jeopardize our friendship because of some dumb crush."

"Ah, Wonwoo," Soonyoung sighs and leaves it there. All those years of knowing each other, he learned where Wonwoo’s limits start and where they end. He also knows when to stop pushing, and this time a small part of Wonwoo wishes he wouldn’t.

"I don't even think I can say it aloud to him,” he says, “Just the idea of it gives me chills."

Jeonghan chews on his apple and offers it to Soonyoung, who in one huge bite almost swallows half of it.

"If you're sure of what you want, I think the question is if what you want is worth the risk or not," Jeonghan says, offering what's left of the apple to Wonwoo.

Hesitantly, he takes a bite.

*

The day Wonwoo had moved into his apartment, he and Soonyoung had been struggling to maneuver the stubborn second-hand couch up the stairs for hours.

Wonwoo had tried to apologize to Soonyoung when he’d accidentally made him crash against the wall behind him. It wasn't his fault really, he was making most of the effort and all Soonyoung had to do was guide them.

Soonyoung didn't take the criticism lightly. "Oh, I’m sooo sorry," he said sarcastically, "Some of us don't have a driving license for ugly furniture."

Wonwoo was about to tell him he didn’t have a driving license of any kind when a curious blond head peeked over the railing and Soonyoung rejoiced at their potential collaborator. That meant he dropped the couch and waved, almost making Wonwoo trip and fall down the stairs from the second floor.

The cute boy waved back and Wonwoo dropped his end of the couch. It made a defeated sound. "Do you need help with that?" he said as a way of greeting, pointing at the couch.

Soonyoung was delighted by Wonwoo's neighbor but being Soonyoung, always happy to meet new people, it was not a surprise.

He talked all the way up the stairs, and Wonwoo was sure he wasn't doing much, his hands under the couch there just for show. Even went as far as mentioning that Wonwoo was moving _all by himself_ and that the two of them were _just friends_. Naturally, Wonwoo wanted to kick him on the shin, stop him from revealing too much, but his urge went away because Soonyoung got the boy's name.

Wen Junhui.

Everything considered it wasn't all so mortifying until they reached Wonwoo's door and the heavy couch fell on Junhui's toes.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry," Wonwoo tried apologizing but Junhui smiled and assured him that it was okay, it didn't hurt. But Wonwoo, who had been doing most of the lifting, knew better. It must had been painful. But he let Junhui keep appearances for his pride’s sake. He couldn't help feeling guilty and apologized one more time before letting it go.

Shortly after, Junhui hid his limp pretty well as he walked down his door, next to Wonwoo's and they watched him go. Then, Soonyoung opened his mouth in what he had felt like an eternity of him being quiet. "He looks cute," he said, “like an innocent cat.”

"Stop projecting your feline thing onto others, weirdo," Wonwoo said and Soonyoung, always _knowing_ , laughed.

*

Wonwoo is in front of the vegetable aisle when he gives in and calls Junhui. He tells himself he's confused and he needs help from someone who cooks and knows his way around a market but Junhui says hi and his illusion crumbles down.

" _Hello_ ," Junhui sing-songs when Wonwoo doesn't reply.

"I'm at the vegetable aisle," he says into the line, all words gone from his mind. But Junhui giggles and after a week of not hearing that sound, he thinks he should be more stupid, and call more often.

"Are you finally taking care of yourself or do you miss me cooking for you?"

"Maybe both."

The line is quiet for a moment and Wonwoo holds the celery on his hand tighter.

"What are you cooking? I'll guide you through it," Junhui says.

In all his adult life, he has never cooked anything edible. Knows that every meal he made that required more than minimal effort was so bad that not even the most ravenous animals would be able to digest it, let alone eat it. But he thinks he can let himself try.

*

The idea of cooking never appealed to Wonwoo and it becomes less appealing when he tells Soonyoung his plans for the night and Soonyoung texts him that he can’t even boil water, let alone cook an entire meal by himself. Before he can reply in defense of his person, Soonyoung calls him.

"My instant ramyeon would disagree with you," Wonwoo speaks first into his phone and he knows Soonyoung is trying with all his might not to laugh, which ends up with both of them laughing.

"I can't believe your soggy ramyeon is your only defense."

"I like it like that." He doesn't and Soonyoung knows it.

Wonwoo doesn't have anything special to talk about, has already told Soonyoung his plans for the night but they talk about mundane things about their day. Before Wonwoo hangs up, they're quiet for a moment. "You have it that bad, huh?" Soonyoung asks.

He shares the longest friendship he’s ever had with Soonyoung. Sometimes they joke that they know each other better than they know themselves, and sometimes it doesn’t feel like just a joke. They have years of shared experiences, of getting to know each other so well that they can recognize how the other is feeling just by the sound of their voice.

Even if they're talking through the phone, he’s familiar with the hidden question mark under the teasing. It’s a tone Soonyoung uses only with things that matter and Wonwoo can't lie to him. "Yeah."

*

Junhui changes his mind just the tiniest bit. Not completely but he's interested in the idea of learning which is what Junhui presents to him.

"If you're only going to feed yourself, it's not about the skill but more about finding a simple way of taking care of yourself," he says as he slices tomatoes on Wonwoo's countertop, and Wonwoo listens intently. There's no way to focus on anything else when Junhui speaks. "It is something you can learn over time. And I can always help if you ask me to."

*

A week passes without a sign of Junhui and Wonwoo thinks that maybe he should be asking for something. That maybe, just maybe Junhui is waiting for him to give in.

Wonwoo doesn't like to work with _maybe_ 's and _what if_ 's and _could be_ 's. He never has liked the risk that comes with abstract concepts, has never liked things only existing in thought rather than being based on something real, concrete.

This could be wishful thinking but he's tired of only wishing.

Wonwoo reaches out, asking for help. He texts Junhui to ask him if he'd teach him to make fried chicken because it seems simple enough but also because he's craving it. He doesn't tell him exactly what he's craving though.

The waiting is different from the one he’s used to. This one is laced with expectation because this time he knows sooner or later he is getting something. A yes, or a no.

Either way, he’s getting something _back_.

His phone vibrates, signaling multiple notifications, and almost falls from the countertop. Before it does, he picks it up to find three texts from _Junnie_. The first one explains he's at a friend's place, the second one asks him if he has all the ingredients, and the last one an upset face emoji, like an afterthought.

The order looks wrong but he knows better than to question how Junhui’s thoughts are interlaced with each other.

Wonwoo texts him back that it's fine, that they can do it any other day. His phone rests unmoving once again and he thinks, _oh well_. There's not much he can do without Junhui's help.

Days before he tried to make the tomato and egg stir fry with the leftover ingredients on his fridge, all by himself. He didn't get it quite right, it wasn't bad but it wasn't good either. He pet Miso for comfort but she looked at him disapprovingly and turned around, jumping down from the stool before she left him completely alone with his half-empty bowl.

It looks like it's going to be one of those nights again when he orders fried chicken for one.

Miso's fluffy tail curls around his leg as she walks around him, rubbing her fur against his leg. Kneeling on the floor, he reaches for her and pets her at the base of her left ear, where she likes the most. "I know, I know," he sighs.

Only when she seems content enough that her eyes close, he picks her up and sits on his couch with Miso on his lap.

He waits patiently for the knock knock knock—the telltale sign of someone waiting for him to open up.

To his surprise, it comes sooner than he expected. He looks at Miso, asleep on his arms and he doesn’t have it in him to let go of her. He throws his phone on the couch and gets up, his fluffy friend in arms.

Wonwoo pushes the door open and realizes his grave mistake too late.

Across the narrow hall, on her doorstep, _Mrs. Kim_ stops talking when her eyes meet the ball of fluff on Wonwoo’s arms. But Miso, unaware of what’s happening, meows as if celebrating the arrival of the man standing on their door.

Wonwoo acts without thinking and with his free arm grabs Junhui from his waist and pulls him close. In a poor attempt to hide Miso from the eyes of their other neighbor, he tries to go for a loose, friendly hug.

Junhui puts the gentlest of pressures on the arm that holds him close, and searches on Wonwoo’s face for something, his bright eyes lowering and landing on Wonwoo’s lips just for a fraction of a second. It’s short but Wonwoo—hyper-aware of everything going on around him—notices.

It’s anything but friendly.

The highest, angriest sound he’s ever heard come from Miso breaks the moment.

She’s not celebrating Junhui’s presence anymore because she’s fighting with all her might to get out of their embrace and out of Wonwoo’s careful grip. He yelps when she pushes them away from each other, freeing herself and jumping inside his apartment and in the process, she almost makes Wonwoo trip but he grabs Junhui’s hoodie and holds onto it as she jumps inside.

Junhui puts his hand on his waist, holding him, and keeps him from falling to the floor. After finding his balance, Wonwoo immediately tugs him inside.

Mrs. Kim tsk-tsking as she shakes her head is the last thing Wonwoo sees before Junhui closes the door with the sole of his sneaker.

Wonwoo’s memory sparks, reminding him he’s been here already. Not here exactly but he’s had Junhui stand between him and a door before.

This time around, Wonwoo closes the security chain attached to the door frame.

“Holy shit,” Junhui breathes and Wonwoo throws his head back and cackles.

They're only linked by Wonwoo's arm, still holding onto Junhui's hoodie for dear life, and Junhui's hand on his waist. He feels Junhui shaking with the beginning of a giggle before he hears him.

The sweet, contagious sound of laughter fills his otherwise empty apartment. Junhui laughs the hardest he’s ever heard him, the melody verging on giddiness and Wonwoo’s heart glows.

He doesn't know if the lurch of his stomach is because of his laughter or Junhui leaning his head on his shoulder, trying to calm down.

Junhui takes a deep breath and lifts his face. “My cheeks hurt,” he giggles, and for his sake, Wonwoo tries not to burst into laughter again.

Junhui mimics Wonwoo, scrunching up his nose. “You always do that when you laugh.” The words are a whisper, a sweet breath fanning over Wonwoo’s face. When he notices how close their faces are, he doesn’t have to try so hard to keep his down anymore.

This close, he can see all of Junhui's beauty marks decorating his face. The one under his eyebrow, the two on his cheekbone. He pauses at the one on the corner of his lip and thinks to himself he could imprint a secret there. Only if he leans a little bit closer.

He knows he’s staring—a telltale sign he doesn’t bother to hide anymore because this close, he can see Junhui is mirroring him.

Wonwoo tests his luck and leans forward, almost closing the few centimeters between them, the only thing keeping them apart. The question is on the tip of his tongue, almost out of his mouth, but Junhui, as always, is quicker and meets him halfway.

It’s a tender, chaste kiss. A simple thing, barely-there but Junhui’s hold on his waist goes a little tighter, as if he’s surprised at the confession.

They pull apart and take shaky breaths in synchronicity. Junhui presses his forehead against his, beaming.

This close, he notices something on the corner of Junhui’s lips, hidden behind his beauty mark. A wish, maybe. Unable to contain himself anymore, Wonwoo brings up his hand and gently rests it below Junhui's ear. “Hey, you,” he says, trying to draw it out.

Junhui answers by pulling him into another kiss. This one is deeper but just as soft, easy in ways words could never be. It surprises him when Junhui takes the lead but he lets him. Wonwoo feels fingers lightly running down his spine, pulling them closer together, and he goes pliant against Junhui. He gently threads his fingers back into his hair and he _feels_ more than he hears a happy sound against his lips.

His heart settles at an easy pace. _Finally_ , it whispers.

“What are you even doing here?” Wonwoo whispers when they pull apart.

“Sorry I didn’t text first but I didn’t think much of it because it seemed—was important. Still is.” A pause. “You asked for my help and... you never do that.”

Wonwoo hums and reads between the lines because he can.

“I missed you too,” he teases, tapping lightly on the side of Junhui’s neck.

The admission is worth it when Junhui buries his face on his shoulder, trying to hide his blush, and groans.

Wonwoo wants to kiss him again, press a _thank you_ to his lips, but a knock behind Junhui interrupts him. Because it's them, the moment doesn't break, it eases away but not completely.

They loosen the threads between them slowly, untangle themselves from each other. Wonwoo steps away to give way for him and Junhui gives his hand a gentle squeeze and goes to look for Miso. Wonwoo opens the door.

"Fried chicken for Wonwoo?" the man holding a takeout bag says behind his mask. Silently, Wonwoo nods and takes the money out of his pocket. He knows he must look disheveled and possibly giddy but he doesn’t care, not really.

Absently, he hears Junhui call for Miso in the tender voice that’s reserved for her only. He thinks it can't be that private of a sound if Wonwoo was able to recognize the warmth of it.

Despite the nervous look the delivery guy throws at him, he doesn’t try to wipe the Cheshire cat grin off his face.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaand the cat is out of the box! lol  
> hope you enjoyed reading!! kudos and comments are really appreciated!!! <33
> 
> thanks to my dear friend kit who encouraged me right from the start and held my hand all the way through!!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/heartspound) / [curious cat](https://curiouscat.qa/heartspound)


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